Then the fun began.
Browning and Rattleton ladled out the punch in cups and goblets, and it was “absorbed” with great rapidity by the innocent sophies. Cigars, pipes and everything that would make a smoke were lighted, and it was not long before the atmosphere could be cut with a dull knife.
As usual, Frank did not smoke or drink, but he was able to withstand the fumes of liquor in a marvelous manner, and he was enjoying it all immensely. He sang the songs with the others, cracked jokes, and his ringing laugh was infectious.
“Walk up, gentlemen—walk up and get your poison!” cried Rattleton.
“That’s a good name for it,” said Jack Diamond.
In one of the rooms there was a scuffle and fall.
“What was that?” cried a startled freshman. “It sounded as if something broke.”
“If it were a little later,” laughed Frank, “I should think it was the break of day.”
It was learned that nothing serious had happened. Two freshmen had punched each other a little, but that was not worth considering as long as neither freshman had been killed.
Charlie Creighton climbed on a table and gave a toast, holding a brimming goblet of punch aloft.